Drinks and Philosophy
by Crystal Meadow
Summary: More for me than a story. Harry meets someone in a bar and talks about the war. It is slightly AU in the fact that I added in one of my characters. I just wanted to post it to see what people would think of it.


Drinks and Philosophy

It's been so strange since the war ended. Everywhere I go I've been congratulated for killing the worst wizard of the century. It's hard to believe that it's been 2 years since the war. I can't even go to a bar without getting asked about that night. That's why I was in this little hole in the wall. Really, all it was was a cardboard box that served alcohol. The place had such bad lighting, you could barely see the bartender, and the waitress was only a shadow ghosting between the tables. I choose a table near the back and sat down. I didn't even know someone was there until she spoke.

"Well, well. Seems like I get the have the famous Harry Potter for a drinking partner tonight. Aren't I lucky." I looked up and tried to see in the darkness. After a minute she must have understood that I was trying to see her. She cast some lighting spell that for some reason came from her arm.

She had silver hair and eyes. Her arms were covered with tattoos of different runes. The thing that I really noticed was the black dragon pendant with opal eyes. It seemed like it was staring right into my soul. She had on a small smile and was studying my face.

"I'm sorry," I said, "I didn't know you were sitting here. I'll get up and go-" I started to get up but her other hand pulled me back down.

"Nonsense. If I wanted you to leave I would have told you so. Sit, order something. Try the dragon's blood, sounds gross but tastes great," she said while she saluted with her glass. She took a long drink and got a sad look on her face. After a second she looked toward the ceiling and blew out a stream of fire. The waitress was at our table in an instant.

"Yes Dracolina," the waitress asked in a tired tone.

"Two more pints of dragon's blood please." This woman either didn't hear the waitress's tone or didn't care. The waitress only sighed and vanished into the dark.

"Is that your name?" I asked. She looked at me with a lost expression on her face before she realized what I asked.

"No, but I don't like giving out my real one, power in a name and all that jazz. I usually use that one when I go out." When she saw that I wasn't going to say anymore she got bored and started to blow out smoke rings. I wasn't going to pry about not using her real name. God knows how many times I've used a fake one. Though, her being able to breathe fire was a question that was really gnawing at my mind.

"Is this place always so dark?" I asked trying to break the awkward silence. She stopped blowing smoke rings and looked at me with a surprised look on her face.

"And you beat Voldemort with _those_ observational skills? The place is called_ 'Shadows Sanctum'_. It would be kind of weird if it wasn't full of shadows."

"Yeah, well, I didn't see the sign," I mumbled looking at the table. I don't know why, but I didn't like her like her thinking low of me. I guess she felt bad at how I was acting because she apologized.

"Sorry, I don't usually hold back from speaking my mind," she gave me an apologetic smile before a mock stern look came on her face, "You should pay more attention though. People wouldn't want you to get killed just because you walked into a tree chipper or some evil wizard hangout," she finished with an admonishing finger. As soon as she finished she got a huge smile on her face. I figured out why when the waitress came within the dull light.

"Here you are Dracolina, at least let him have some before you drink us dry." The waitress dropped off the two mugs and walked away. I turned back to look at Dracolina and she was already drinking from her mug.

"You must be a pretty bad alcoholic," I said with a light tone to make sure she wouldn't take it seriously. She only laughed and took another long drink. I took a sip and nearly spit it back out. This stuff made firewhiskey seem like water, but I swallowed it and took a smaller drink. Once I got past the burning in my throat, it was actually really good. I highly doubted that I was going to finish the whole thing though. I looked at the murky red liquid and thought about why I came all the way out here.

"What are you asking?" she asked in a gentle voice, a tone that almost didn't match her demenor.

"What?" I smartly replied while trying to focus my mind on her question. She just shook her head a little.

"This place," she waved her hand around the room, "is a place where people can come and hide in the dark. This is a sentient place that opens its doors too only those who need it. People come here when the light can't give them what they seek. You seem to be like the type of person that would agonize over 'what ifs'. So," she said spearing me with her silver gaze, "what are you asking?" I broke my eyes away after a moment and looked back at my drink

"It's been two years since the war," I started, not looking up from the liquid, "and all anyone can talk about is me and Voldemort. Even after his death people are still scared to say his name. Not only that," I said getting louder, it was like someone unleashed a pair of floodgates inside of me. Everything that I've been holding in was coming out to this strange woman, "but no one wants to remember that good people died that day. They're just as willing to brush them off it can't give them a good story. Only the Quibbler talks about these things, and no one even reads it," I finished with a shout. I was standing up by now and was fairly sure that I would be stared at if the room wasn't so dark. Dracolina just looked at me with a mild expression that silently asked, '_are you done yet'._' I sat back down and took a big gulp of the dragon's blood. I nearly spit it back up but forced it down. It helped dull the anger and the loss of energy at my outburst.

Dracolina was still sitting there with that unimpressed look on her face just staring at me. She took a drink of her liquor before she spoke.

"I think I'll answer your second statement since you probably won't like my answer to the first, no one ever really does," she mused to herself before she shook her head and got back on topic. "They don't talk about the people that died in the news paper because, yes, it doesn't really sell all that well, but also because it is needlessly picking at old wounds. People don't want to stay on topics such as death and sadness; there is enough of that in the present without pulling it from the past. It does not do to dwell on dreams Harry, nor on death," I snapped my head up and stared at her, but she wasn't paying attention to me and was staring at some point over my shoulder.

I thought about what she said, and even though I didn't agree with it, it still made sense, and my anger at the world slightly cooled.

"What was your answer to the first half of my tirade?" I asked in a quiet voice, genuinely wondering what she would answer.

"Well," she gave a smile that would send a chill down Voldemort's spine, "the reason why Voldemort is still feared and in the papers is because he was a great wizard that deserves respect," maybe it was the alcohol, but I was having a hard time controlling my emotions. The anger I felt must have shown on my face because she started laughing. "You didn't let me finish hero," she said trying to get her laughter under control, "The world should never forget him, because he is what happens when people neglect their brethren. If you keep kicking a dog, eventually, the dog is going to bite back. It's sad when people get so surprised when they do." She drank the last of her drink and looked at me with a waiting expression on her face.

"You're saying that Voldemort is evil because other people made him?" I asked.

"Because the world of humans neglected a child," she corrected in a quiet voice, "and every time that happens, the world runs the risk of someone becoming a Voldemort. It's sad really. No one is born evil, just handed a script book when they're born, and, well, every play has to have its villain. You were just handed the script of the opposing role," she finished with a shrug of her shoulders.

"I don't believe that," I said, "You're saying that he was destined to be the crazy power monger no matter what." It surprised me that I was getting so emotional over this. It was probably the alcohol.

"No, I'm saying that out of every person in the world, at that moment, he was the most qualified. And just like he was the one who decided between who would be the hero by killing one of your families-"

"How do you know that!?" I asked in an angry tone, not even Neville knew about the prophecy and she was saying to many things that should have been in only my past. She ignored my outburst though, and continued her thought.

"- he was also decided when those at the orphanage decided to ignore him. When a child receives no love, they will often show no love. Ah, but since you look like you want to punch me in the face, I'll be going. I do have a dinner date after all." She got up and drank the last of her drink.

"Dracolina," I called before she walked completely away, "Would I have been a Voldemort?" I asked. I don't know why I had to know, or why she would know the answer, but I asked her anyway. It _must_ have been the alcohol.

"If you had no one Harry, truly no one; no Durselys to yell at you, no Draco to fight with, no Ron or Hermionie to worry about you, not a soul in the world, would you try to change it? Would you take by force what you thought you deserved, or perhaps teach the world to never do it again? I don't know Harry, only you can answer that." She finished in a serious tone, both sets of eyes, her own and the pendant's, nearly glowing in the dark. She stared at me a moment longer before she left a pile of money on the table and walked out. Now that she was gone, I could barely see the bar with the lack of lighting. The waitress floated over and gave me a small smile.

"Do you feel better?" she asked, not at all like the way she was before.

"Why would I?" I asked, staring at her in confusion.

"This place," she started while collecting the money from the table, "was here long before my husband and I owned it. She came to us one day when we had nothing but the clothes on our backs and our love to support us. She asked if we would like somewhere to live, and a job to have. We of course said yes, and she lead us here. We turned around to ask what this place was, but she was already gone." She was staring at the bar now. It must have a trick of the light to see the silver sheen on her maple eyes. "We set up this bar, and have been here for 10 years. We get a lot of strange visitors but they never cause any harm. She'll show up every once in awhile, but always for our stranger guests," she finished. I stared at her for a moment before I looked at the table.

"I do," I said after a few moments, "I really need to going now." I got up from the table and started heading towards the door.

"Goodbye, and feel free to come back any time," she said. I looked back and gave her a smile before I walked out the door. A couple steps away I turned back to try to see the sign of the bar.

When I turned around, all I saw was a brick wall and a garbage can. I stared for a moment before I shrugged my shoulders and turned back around, heading towards the Weasly's house. Disappearing doors were something that I had grown accustomed to, and besides, I was already late and I didn't want them to worry, not when I could finally, after all of these years, truly enjoy their company without being weighted down.

- - -- - -- - -

"_Dragoon_, I'm back."

"Did you have fun goading Potter?"

"Of course. You should have seen his face, it was priceless," I said taking a seat next to the fire.

"Did you at least help?" he asked with a sardonic voice. I gave him a wounded stare while I spoke.

"I always help Dragoon, people just don't like to acknowledge that I helped them, much like a certain dragon I know."

"Hmmph, I haven't changed at all."

"That's not true, you've stopped being a bastard on the outside, and keep your prickish thoughts on the inside. For any Malfoy, that is a great improvement. Soon, you won't even need me," I said draping myself over the overly cushioned armchair to make myself more comfortable and to try to absorb more heat from the fire.

" . . . you would have made an excellent Slytherin." He said shaking his head and handing me a wineglass full of some type of alcohol. I took a sip and smiled.

"Rum, my favorite. Shall we make a toast before it's all gone?" I asked with a lilt in my voice.

"What's the toast?" he said pouring out a glass for himself.

"That the golden boy will stop wallowing in his angst long enough to enjoy life," I said raising my glass towards him.

"We don't need to waste a toast on him," he said, but raised his glass none the less. I only laughed and drank to the toast.

"Ah, but the night I came here I made a toast to you," I said with in a lazy voice, enjoying the dark rum. "Really Dragoon, are all Malfoys this self-centered?"

His only response was to glare at me from across the fire. I smiled and felt happy that I could pull one more person out of the darkness. Pretty soon, I'll have saved Dragoon too. I'll be sad when I won't be able to stay here any longer, but c'est la vie. I can't wait until his son is born. If the shadows are right, the Potter's and the Malfoy's will be forever entertwined. I might just have to try to get a position at the school to see such a ground breaking moment. Ohh, I can hardly wait, I especially can't wait until Dragoon finds out.

"What are you smiling about?" I felt my smile become more predatory as I settled back into the chair and took a sip of my rum.

"Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head over Dragoon."


End file.
